Tifa Dabbles
by xTimorousBeastie
Summary: 9. Or maybe she just let it elude her because once she figured it out, the game would be over after five years   10. Every time she woke from those memories, she went out to look at the sky. 11. All of a sudden Tifa found herself wishing for a miracle.
1. Forgiveness like pain

"What are you doing?" the question hung in the air. Heavy and thick like fresh fallen rain.

"What do you think?" the answer came from a turned back. Strong and ungiving like a stone wall that stood for centuries. He was there and she was here, just a few feet away. When did the distance get so big? When did things get so awkward between them? They used to be so close but now? Now he felt worlds away and she didn't like it one bit.

She continued to stare at his back silently. Afraid to open her mouth lest she say something wrong yet again and ruin the moment, this simple barely there moment that she had fought and fought so hard to finally achieve. Shattered glass and broken faith and lies spoken through teeth that smelled of honesty, or had she just been that desperate? That's what everything had been resolved to in the mere moments that the door had been open and the door could never be closed again and she knew it. Not without help. But she couldn't ask for help, the last time she had been in tears and hadn't been thinking straight and who knew just what kind of consequences would show up later on down the line. Neither party was innocent in this, but she seemed to be the only one to walk away scathed. The only one who seemed to remember the good times, not just the bad. The only one who even bothered to look back on the memories and wish they could go back in time. But she was grasping blindly at straws now. Hoping that whatever one she managed to grab was the right length to be the bridge between them, or even to start it. She opened her mouth and nothing came out but more silence as loud as shattering glass and she closed her mouth to try once more and this time something did come out. Laughter. Cold, hopeless laughter that spoke nothing of the late nights and music blaring and memories of shoulder bumps and always having each other's back. She laughed a laugh that spoke of being broken, and of giving up and being lost. She laughed and she walked away from him knowing he wouldn't bother to watch her leave.

She didn't bother to look back.


	2. D A N C E R

**D A N C E R**

Standard disclaimer applied

Tifa lockhart had wanted to be a dancer. One of those beautiful girls with their crystalline hearts who always seemed to be in motion even when still. Instead she got a piano. The piano, she decided after pressing only one key, hated her. The sound it made wasn't pretty, wasn't delicate, wasn't anything like the tones her mother's fingers elicited. She hated the piano and the piano hated her and when girls left from dance lessons her eyes followed enviously. But she was only a little girl, stubborn and simple and wishing to be like the popular girls. No one looked twice at piano players.

Then, a few years later something happened at the not so little girl walked up to the piano and willingly touched the keys with trembling hands. The sound that rang out did not match memories of her dancing around in a dress made just for her as her mother played and her father applauded and cheered his girls on. No, the sound was sad, and lost, and if possible even worse than the only time she had attempted to touch the thing before. And she stood there, refusing the bench lest she taint the memory of its old occupant, and kept hitting the keys harder and harder and faster and faster and harder and harder until she collapsed to the ground with a small scream, tears pouring down her face.

Tifa Lockhart had wanted to be a dancer. Fifteen years later and she still hung onto the dream. She was a woman now, but she couldn't let go of the little seven year old girl peering out the window at the group of older girls who danced their way home looking like girls in the fairytales that she knew by heart. She no longer had the piano, after years of finally cherishing it like the treasure that it was she had to leave it behind in her memories. But now she danced to different music. Hands sweeping along high shelves to the sound of glasses being set on tables punctuated by laughter. Knee's bent to hug children and feet left the ground to attack an opponent, not to do ballet.

It had taken her fifteen years, but she was finally a dancer.


	3. FRAGILE

FRAGILE

Pairing: CloTi

Theme: Fragile

They were fragile. They were fragile and simple and just trying to survive while saving as many as they could. But together they were strong and fierce and their backs never went unprotected. If they had anything to say about it neither of them would be in danger and they would be together like they had wanted to since the first time they spoke. But it wasn't up to them and they had to watch as the other was broken over and over and wish it was them instead.

Everything about her screamed fragile. She couldn't see it but he did, the boy who had been watching her for years. Her, the girl with the high dreams and the low moments and a better packed punch than most people. She tried to portray strength and no-nonsense but he alone saw how her shoulders would slump in exhaustion, how her ankle would twinge from old wounds that never quite healed and she had to grab something to keep from crashing when she thought she was alone. Scars on her back, on her legs and probably on her heart because she had given trust and love and faith so often only to have it thrown in her face over and over and he could see her drowning in everything more than either of them would care to admit. She was delicate and fragile and everything that made him want to make the world a better place so that she didn't have to worry and so she would be safe and could smile a smile that reminded him of that little girl from so long ago. He hated when he had to fight with her beside him because his eyes kept being drawn to her, so terrified that this would be the time that she couldn't be patched up so easily again and he would have to go on without her. He was so afraid of losing her.

But things happen and people fall from their high shelves and break only to be repaired over and over until they weren't the same and the cracks and the fissures and the scratches became so much that they were no longer of importance and were just cast aside for something else, some_one_ else. Everyone knew it and yet so many tried to prevent. You can't prevent the inevitable. But you can hold it off and that's what they tried their hardest to do.

At first she barely knew him, just the boy who promised to come when she called for help, who promised to be her hero and at first she thought it to be just false words and empty promises but soon she found herself looking and searching for his name in the papers, anxious to see his name yet dreading what it just might say. Because while he tried to act strong and fearless he was just as fragile as everyone else and she didn't want to see him break because he shone far to brightly that he just couldn't be real. Every day she searched the paper and the sky searching for any hint of the bright boy who she longed to be safe and sound and protected thoroughly. But no word of him, no sign and she began to fear the worst and just when she thought that things were going to be the end he appeared just like he had promised all those years ago and at first she was happy that he kept his word and was there for her but then that was overridden. Overridden by the fear that he was going to break and there was nothing she could do about it because she hurt so much, everything hurt even her eyes from just looking at him. The bright fragile boy who made promises and kept them and she had never wanted to hug someone as much before then. She wanted to protect him, do whatever she could because she could see that he thought that he bore the weight of the world on his shoulders and he was slowly sinking down and gaining cracks and she couldn't bear to watch so she tried as hard as she could to keep the weight from dragging him too far down into oblivion.

They were fragile as glass and spun sugar even though they didn't see it in themselves. They saw each other's backs more than their front sometimes but to them it was worth it if it meant that they could keep the other around for as long as they could. And if they saw cracks start to form they would fix them, and they would always be there ready to catch.

Because they were fragile and simple and innocent. And the world needed them around.


	4. Burning Bright

Burning Bright

Standard disclaimer applied

That day, when she left the house, the voice calling out to her said the same as any other.

"_Be nice and don't do anything that won't make you proud when you're older."_

Everyday her response was the same, a sound of acknowledgement, an empty promise and eyes that were rolled behind a closing door for she was only a child who cared little about the future and how her actions would shape it. It was all about the here and the now and the how she could get that cute boy who lived at the end of the lane to notice her when everyone else was vying for his attention as well. But that cute boy it seemed had the makings of a ladies man it seemed and after accepting Tifa's words and smiles and calculated gestures with a children's kiss, he was doing the same to another girl not ten minutes later.

But she didn't care all that much about him and who he kissed, she only wanted to match the other girls for while she wasn't entering the boy crazy phase like the others, she rather likes being popular. And as the others started figuring it out she walked past the small groups, glad that she had some time to herself where she didn't have to pretend to be some airhead not so little girl.

Neibleheim was a site with a Mako reactor and the sayings were true. There wasn't much there except for dusty knees, dusty dreams and dusty everything else. Even back then a piece of her longed to get away from the small dust town and when she was the sad little boy around her age that distant part of her knew that he just might be the one to rescue her. She'd seen him around before and her reminded her of herself back when her age group wasn't old enough to form clichés and she wasn't old enough to be deemed popular, a word she never understood.

Looking at him with his hair of sunlight and gravity that was defied mysteriously she felt the urge to walk on over, plop herself next to the boy who shone untouched by all the dust swirling around them and strike up a conversation but voices were nearing and she scurried on past him without so much as a look back as she hid behind the corner of a building like she was in trouble. The small group passed on and she remained there, watching as the boy occupied his time with playing by himself. That's what she did, she watched and watched and felt every inch of a stalker that her father brought home tales of but she didn't mind for that little boy around her age carried something inside of him that nobody else had and it had her rooted to the spot like the earth beneath her had grown hands specifically to hold her in place.

But time wore on and she realized that she couldn't just stand there so she hesitantly took a step forward, and then another and then another; her footsteps getting more and more sure as she approached the boy with his small back towards her until her shoulders her held back and a smile was bright on her face and she halted just a bit short of him and she could see him tense a bit at noticing him. She wondered if he would allow her to share just what it was inside of him that made him burn so bright, for he was to bright for this dusty town, and then she opened her mouth and words poured out.

"Hey there! I'm Tifa!"


	5. Angelic

Angelic

Standard disclaimer applied

More often than not, Tifa found herself swearing that she was surrounded by angels. Aerith and Zack and Cloud and Marlene and everyone else in between that had made an appearance in her later life. They all shone with a light that was unique and brilliant and made the whole world seem dull in comparison. They were bright and angelic and perfect and everyday Tifa found herself wondering why she was allowed to breach their ranks. Aerith with her kindness, Zack with his bravery, Cloud with his determination, Marlene with her innocence, all of them better than she was by far but she wasn't upset or bitter or jealous. She was proud and awed and so very very happy that she was lucky enough to be the one chosen to give the tour that day back in dusty Neibleheim to the fallen angel, the braggart and the three eyed helmet head.

They were angels with their strong hearts and their warm eyes and Tifa swore that if you caught any of them in the right light you would be able to see their wings. Beautiful and crystalline and breathtaking and they looked every inch of angels that had been sent down to the Planet to save everyone. And Tifa knew that they could and she would follow any of them until her last breath because they were far too bright and kind and righteous to walk away from. They were the closest things that she had ever seen to angels.

Pure and willing to risk everything to save others and able to run headfirst into dangerous situations where Tifa herself had no choice but to hesitate out of fear. They were amazing and beautiful and everything that Tifa set out to be yet knew that she would never even come close because they were angelic and she was just ordinary but she was okay with being overshadowed and overlooked if she got to be close to them, closer than others could only dream about. They helped, and lifted up, and were the things of miracles and legends and hope and wonder and will always be there when they are needed. And Tifa knew that it was only a matter of time that Aerith or Cloud or Zack or even little Marlene was called back and she was determined to milk whatever time she had with them. Because they were oh so bright and too angelic to let go without a fight.


	6. Broken Promises

**Broken Promises**

Characters: Cloud Stife, Tifa Lockhart

Theme: madness, betrayal

Standard disclaimer applied

She was running, running from someone that she never thought that she would ever have to run from. Tifa was never one for fleeing, always one to face things head on but this was an exception, the only options were fight or flight and she could never bring herself to attack. Even now.

Boot encased feet pounded the cracked, stained pavement and shadows danced with other shadows. She could hear him behind her, beside, ahead, every frantic turn she made he was there for he knew the areas layout as well as she did, and the slums became her prison. Breath burned in her lungs and came out in frenzied puffs of pristine white against the cold late night darkness. She knew that all she had to do was turn around and fight for they so equally matched that the strain of combat might snap him out of whatever was making him like this but she couldn't bring herself to. She was prolonging it, she knew, but the idea of fighting him made her heart ache.

Promises apparently meant nothing anymore, although thinking back she sort of forced it on him didn't she? She had been so stubborn, so enamored at the idea of having her very own hero always ready to rescue her that she probably wouldn't have taken no for an answer that night at the well and now? Now that very promise was probably going to be her downfall this night.

A hunk of raised pavement caught her foot and she almost went sprawling, somehow remaining upright and she continued on her panic filled way. She ducked into a straight away ally then into another, avoiding building faced streets for she wanted no one to see him like this, or was it herself that she wanted to keep away from prying eyes and curious glances? Wild hair and frenzied eyes, she looked nothing like the Tifa she had seen in her mirror that morning. Would the citizens think that it was a lovers spat turned wrong, a simple late night spar, or would they figure out that something much worse was happening?

A visage that was not hers flashed in a nearby puddle and she was almost mesmerized by the angel like features as she hurried away. She didn't know where she was going. Her feet seemed to but they weren't communicating with her brain and she was reduced to running for her life down dimmed alley ways like a mouse in a maze and part of her feared that when she reached the end he would already be there like a hawk awaiting its next meal. He was toying with her, staying at a consistent pace, and she was letting him. Left, right, left, right, constantly checking her surroundings for another glimpse of him so she would know which way to duck down next.

But there were only so many alleys and soon she was thrust out in the open with windows and doors that seemed to be mocking her, laughing at her predicament and internal plight. But now she knew where she was, and with heavy footfalls she headed to the large building with cracked stained glass windows, halting a few feet away from the closed double doors. This place was a safe place, the memories it contained were miracles and if she refused to fight then maybe this building would do what she couldn't.

Footsteps sounded behind her and there was only one person that it could be and her breath hitched in her throat but they slowed to a stop and everything was silent.

And Tifa turned around to see the large sword coming straight for her, blank determination in the wielders blue eyes.

"_Cloud! No!"_


	7. When you're with me

_**When you're with me**_

Theme: CloTi, AU, request

AN: It…doesn't really seem like AU does it? ^^; And…I've gotten so many hits on this- like over 100 since Thursday- and yet…no comments? Is my writing that bad? Please leave a comment even if it's just to say hi! 3 I also take requests so if you want a certain paring or theme just let me know and I'll do it!

Also: CloTi FTW =w= 3

Standard Disclaimer Applied. Unfortunately.

Sometimes, Tifa wondered if it was all worth it. Tonight, as the girl-just barely a woman- laid on her stomach on her thin mattress going over inventory numbers that were clipped to a cheap pink plastic clipboard was no different. She didn't have much, and what she did have was a rundown restaurant slash bar that she had bought a few months ago a few hours into her twenty-first birthday that had an apartment upstairs. The apartment, however small, had somehow became the new place for her friends to show up when they were too drunk or high to make it safely to their own places, or when they got into a fight but she didn't mind. Not when she bandaged cuts, or dodged flying objects and words sharper than knives or even when she waited outside the bathroom door with a wet towel, warm blanket, and a cup of tea.

She pretended that their number hadn't dwindled, that knocks and drunken yells hadn't changed in an attempt to disguise the missing parts. Aerith, Zack. Tifa had met them both sophomore year in high school. Cloud had introduced them and the four had been practically inseparable- going through high school like they had known each other forever. But then in senior year, the two- voted cutest couple- were in a car accident. Neither of them made it and Tifa had cried herself to sleep on a hard hospital bench with her head on Clouds shoulder as he played with her hair in an attempt to comfort.

But now was for bar stuff and not for old memories and Tifa looked away from the window begrudgingly and stared down at the paper of numbers and words and dashes that blurred around in complicated figures that she really didn't feel like deciphering. With a sigh, she shoved the clipboard away and turned to look at the other bed that occupied the room, the one that belonged to Cloud. The boy that she had known since her childhood wasn't home half the time and she moved it into her room to free up the other room for any visitors since the couch wasn't all that comfortable. Currently the blonde had been gone for a few weeks on a delivery and none of her friends had been around for nearly that long. As much as she hated to admit it she was feeling a bit lonely and she flipped over onto her back, a motion that sent the clipboard and the pen clattering to the floor, and stared up at the shadowy ceiling, eyes drooping in fatigue due to the late hour…

Twenty-one year old barmaids who live in the slums don't dream of sugar plums, shooting stars and candy like kisses. They dream of large groups cramming into a phone booth while wishing it was only two, police sirens, drunken laughter and memories of the wandering hands of complete strangers but that was normal to Tifa who had come to expect nothing less yet sugar plums and dancing, singing cookies every so often couldn't hurt much right?

A thump. A thump and somehow she had managed to get the top half of her body dangling over the edge of the bed, briefly memories of late night study groups flashed across her mind, and everything in her vision was hued red. Her name was called and hands grasped her waving arms, pulling her up to sir fully on the bed and she waited a moment for everything to right itself before looking over her shoulder with half lidded eyes.

"Cloud." She murmured, voice low and rough from sleep and a finger that was not her own traced her cheekbone and word of her crying reached her ears. She had been? That sounded about right for while Tifa had her regular dreams, she also had her regular nightmares that blended with memories and she ignored the inquiry about what she had been dreaming about, flopping down on her side with her back towards him.

A sigh sounded behind her and she curled into herself, pretending to have fallen asleep once more as she listened to the sound of footsteps moving away and cloth dropping to the floor as her roommate changed. Then everything was quiet and Tifa laid there with her eyes closed as visions flickered under her eyelids and just as she was about to resign herself to falling asleep again she felt herself being covered. A hand patted her shoulder gently and her own snaked out to clasp his wrist, feeling the muscles tense minutely in surprise.

"That one?" he questioned and at her nod he allowed her to pull him down onto the bed, opening his arms as she turned to press her face against his chest seeking the comfort that only he could give for they knew everything about each other. How in the fifth grade he had gotten bit on the rear by a horse when he had snuck away from the rest of his class during a field trip, how she had gotten lured under the bleachers junior year by some football players and had left unscathed, leaving the jocks neatly knocked out and tied together, and how through everything, the other was the only one they could fully trust.

And Tifa drifted off to sleep as Cloud played with her hair and words were whispered to her- repeating the promise of the well so long ago and how it included nightmares and petty fears and bad memories and she clung tighter to him, afraid to let him go even in sleep, afraid that he would be gone yet again in the morning.

And Tifa decided that it was all worth it, all the ups and downs and pitfalls and successes, tears and smiles and songs if it meant that she got to have that man in her life even if he didn't feel the same way about her.


	8. FEAR

Fear

Theme: Something I wrote up for an event for a tumblr rp I'm in

Background: a crazy ringmaster abducts characters from all over, bringing them to his debilitated circus to work as performers. Run down and full of dangers, he loves to play tricks.

The event was during a storm, peoples worst fears come true. It's all fake, in their mind, but whatever happens to them will be seen by any and all onlookers. Once they are freed, either by themselves, another person or once the event ends, everything disappears, including any wounds they may have sustained.

Tifa's fears: Losing her father again even though it's impossible since he's dead, being betrayed by her friends, being separated from her friends by the life stream.

Tifa watched as the weather changed. Thunder and lightning and pelting rain as fog crept in slowly. She found it nice, maybe a touch relaxing. She was alone in the rundown trailer, currently washing dishes that he had used to make herself something to eat-the food here might not be something that she would have eaten back in Nibelheim, let alone served in 7th Heaven but it would have to do. Last dish finished and set aside to air dry, the woman ran her hands along the towel she had hanging from the pocket on her skirt before placing it on the counter. Except for the noise outside all was silent and her knees bend, back sliding against the front of the counter until she was seated on the ground, a sudden wave of drowsiness overtaking her. Blurry, blurry, blurry still her surroundings got until things went black as she slipped into slumber.

Cold. Cold, cold, too cold. Something was wrong and eyes slowly cracked open to see the colors around her dulled from the fog that was let inside by an open window. With a small groan and tight joints she was standing, looking around for the source of discomfort that the fog didn't provide. Something didn't feel right. Something had her stomach knotting and her heart beating a little faster. Something was wrong and she knew it, she just didn't know what and then all of a sudden it hit her. There was a smell, strong and bitter, and every bit as familiar as her name as it came in through the open window, slowly overpowering the crisp smell of the fog. Something was wrong and she knew it. Places were burning.

Hurried steps and frantic breathing leading up to the trailer door being almost blown from its rusty hinges in the haste to open it. A red glow lit up her frail face, illuminating the horror that resided there. It was everywhere. Everything was covered in a blanket of flame and it brought back memories that almost dropped her to her knees. But there was more than just fire surrounding her. There were bodies and she took hesitant steps forward, going further and further from the safety of her trailer, the only place that seemed untouched by the madness.

At first the bodies seemed faceless, but as she went on the identities made themselves known. There was Anne, the little girl who lived two doors down from Tifa growing up, Ro who brought her flowers every year on her birthday. People she grew up with, learned with, helped, served. All here admist fire and blood and with every face that was recognized her footfalls came quicker and quicker until she was all but running, stumbling through the burning buildings and slashed bodies.

Then, up ahead, a figure in the middle of it all that made her stop. The way it was laying, broken and dejected, it left her with all air flying from her lungs in a rush and all of a sudden she no longer felt like a 22 year old woman and instead felt like that 15 year old dressed in her cowboy tour guide outfit and with jilted steps, slowly yet steadily gaining momentum she threw herself towards that body on the ground.

"D-dad…"

He was saying something, but she couldn't hear the words through the roaring in her ears but that didn't matter for she knew the words he spoke for they often visited her dreams. Her hands clasped his and she screamed words that she put oh so much emotion into that it hurt. Not again, please not again. She couldn't lose him again. He was all she had, no one else since her mother died and if went too then she would be so alone here in this world ad she didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to be alone. Tears flowed over her cheeks, and she shook her head as she saw the light fading, there was nothing she could do and she hated it. People had been killed, and she didn't do anything and now her father was next. Please no, no, no, no! Her hands shook, and her breathing came out in ragged breaths and then his hand fell limp and she watched as it hit the ground, everything seeming to go into slow motion. There was only one person who could have done this and with an angry sound bubbling from her throat she closed her father's watching eyes and leapt to her feet. One person who did this, and he was going to pay.

Her feet pounded the earth with ferocity, following a path that she barely deciphered, winding through the wreckage with a clear purpose clouding everything else out of existence. There. There he was and she stumbled to a halt, screaming his name through the tears that still fell. Somewhere her mind murmured that this was all a rut, familiar, had already happened but her mind blocked it out as well. He turned to face her and he was not alone, flashes or red tinted blond, brown and black appearing behind him in a line that finally registered in her mind. This man wasn't finished; her friends were there as well, waiting in line like cattle and she got even angrier. Fury leading into a fear that she hadn't noticed that she had felt. Fear of being alone, fear of losing those she cared about, them being in a place that she was unable to reach. Her father was gone, left behind like a discarded plaything and now it was their turn. She couldn't let that happen but she didn't know how to stop it and she was moving before she even realized it.

There was a chance that she would lose this but she didn't care. Her fear wasn't making her act any different and she lunged forgetting that she was unarmed but she was blocked, blocked by a wall of her friends who refused to let her past and she fell back, not wanting to hurt them but they kept advancing on her, pushing her back further and further and there was something in their eyes that she didn't like. They just kept pushing and pushing and she didn't like it. She was afraid and her leg caught a rock and she fell, looking up with wide eyes as they kept coming, a figure coming up behind them, a sword lifted to strike, the red blood coating the sharp metal making it sheen and down it plunged as she screamed.

They weren't the ones going to an unreachable place. She was, but it was all the same in the end after all. Her worst fears coming true and all she had to do was realize that it was fake, that it was a trick but she was too caught up in her feelings of revenge, of anger and of throat clenching terror that she could barely see past her own feet and as the sword carved patterns on her flesh she screamed and wept for the friends that just turned their backs and allowed it to go on.


	9. r e d

Red

Request; Reno x Tifa

Slightly AU

Standard disclaimer applied

Over the years Tifa had learned to identify and deal with most things red. Blood stained clothes? Cold water soak with her special formula. Short Santa outfit? Leggings-despite her pervious clothing choices she was now in a point in her life when she needed to dress respectable. An embarrassed person in front of her? Soothing phrases and touches along with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Everything was handled with complete calm and poise.

Then why did the woman become so frazzled at the sight of a certain male with unkempt red hair? Everything that came out of his mouth made her wrinkle her brow in either confusion or exasperation and he did things that made her want to scream as she pulled out her hair, strand by dark strand. He aggravated her in ways no others had and every time she shot a look his way he just smiled like that was all he was aiming for. His very presence annoyed her and she couldn't stand to be in the same room with him for very long.

Then why, for the life of her, did she seem out his red hair and cocky voice every time she went someplace?

The woman had known the nuisance for years now. One day he just stumbled into her bar a few weeks after it had opened and plopped his bottom on one of the barstools that had yet to have time to soften and squeaked in protest at the weight in a way that would have put plastic furniture covers to shame. From his appearance and manor Tifa had assumed that he was already drunk- a wedding or something of the like due to his rumpled suit- but to her surprise he was very much sober even given the fact that he almost fell off his stool the first time she opened her mouth and again when she stepped out from behind the barrier like bar to pull an intoxicated brawler from the dark paneled room by her ear after delivering a few of her own punches. Really, it was like he had never seen a female bartender, let alone on that could fight like she did.

Which in these days was rare and they usually were covered in tattoos and had the body of a gangster. They didn't look like her, petite and curvy with the face of an angel or so inebriated admirers cooed as she listened with half an ear at best.

Between shoving glass after glass at the redhead and ignoring pretty much everything that came out of his rather obnoxiously shaped mouth Tifa had gotten to know him.

What he liked to eat, liked to drink. What his partners name was and the habits he pertained as well the ones her customer did. How, despite his attitude there was something brewing underneath the surface, something that no amount of nonchalance could ever cover completely. She learned all that, but never his name. His name stayed secret, the one part of him that he hid better than anything else in the past five years that she had known him.

It seemed to be a game to him. Every time he would enter the room that only seemed to get darker and darker as time passed no matter how many times Tifa would try to clean it his voice would ring out. "Have you figured out my name yet?" Over and over like that man in the story that wanted the queens firstborn. "Have you figured out my name yet? Have you figured out my name yet?" And every time she would roll her eyes as if dismissing the question and him even as she was steaming inside that she had come up empty handed yet again as she readied his usual drink.

It was red of course.

And over the years they had developed a sort of friendship, a sort of relationship where, while it never transpired outside of 7th Heaven, they always had each other's backs, were always worrying about the other, wondering. Or maybe that was just her, the barmaid with way too much on her mind and not enough time in the day, let alone her life, to actually make something sound and respectable out of herself.

And then that day happened.

That dreadful day filled with riots and fires and smoke that clogged the sun and made you gasp with the smallest of breaths. She had sent the kids away. Tifa was older, she could handle anything that came at them through the heavy steel enforced wooden door that her housemate had installed the last time he bothered to come home. But they kids, through all the bravado they put up, they were still kids and she would never forgive herself if something happened so she sent the away. A friend of hers had been glad to take them in and the departure was tear filled and she walked the streets that got more dangerous by the hour alone, wallowing in self pity and regret.

She should have gone with them then and there. She should have allowed the kids to force her to pack her own bags and hop onto the train with them but she was too preoccupied with keeping the bar as her fortress and waiting for the blonde male that was more a family member to her than her own father at times and maybe a little something else. Something like wanting to stretch out her days of seeing that redhead in his usual spot like nothing was wrong and searching for his name that continued to elude her.

Or maybe she just let it elude her because once she figured it out, the game would be over after five years..

But she didn't go and the things that she had been hoping to prolong soon took a backseat to making sure the bar and all the memories that it held survived the turmoil brewing outside like poisonous lava infecting everyone it touched.

It got her nowhere. In the end all she got was the husk of her home filled with smoldering sparks as the roof caved in, sending her crashing to the bottom level atop piles of rubbish and brick and wooded beam as more piled over her like a blanket that did more hurt than soothe.

A small bomb, an explosion underneath her feet as she walked around the rickety floorboards of the second story, going between bedrooms and imagining that she wasn't trying to hold down the fort alone. Too much for the old building to handle by far no matter how many times is had help up stomping kids, angry adults and impromptu dance parties that made living in such a place almost bearable.

The moments passed, turning longer and longer and with her boy pinned in such a way she had no choice but to just lay where she was as red that she couldn't chase away flooded her vision over and over while she could feel a stream of it falling from her lips as if it wanted to lead the way to something.

Her stomach hurt, more than anything she had ever felt. More than the time she had gotten injured during a fencing lesson that left its mark on her torso in the shape of a jagged scar and she refused to look down, scared at the amount of blood that was pooling around her, dripping off the boards that were half holding her up, half pining her down like they wanted to take her to heaven and hell at the same time.

Who knew how long she had been there when a different form of red entered her vision. Spiky haired in a lazy suit saying words that only sounded like garbled noise as a bald man behind him tried to uncover her in hurried, glove encased movements.

And all of a sudden she let rip a scream that made everything around her sharpen as more tears come to her eyes but she just blinked them away. A snapped beam with a jagged end covered in red that could only have come from one place but Tifa refused to let her brain connect the two places. More red pooled around her, making her a twisted imitation of a blanket but her eyes remained riveted on the man whos name was still a secret and her mouth formed the words 'Don't leave…please' as shouts filled with panic and emergency flew above her and within moments she felt trembling hands being placed on the place where all the warmth seemed to be coming from and pressing hard. So hard she almost let a scream free again but she bit her lip and took it.

She wasn't an idiot. Tifa knew what was going to happen to her because all roads had been blocked off to cars long ago and there was no way she was going to be able to be delivered to the nearest hospital in time. But she didn't want to have to go through it alone. She had done so much in her life, had tried to be a good person and she felt that she had succeeded somewhat. She deserved to be with someone.

Her mouth was moving and her friend laughed a laugh filled with sadness as the other man just turned his head. It was sad that they had to meet on these terms she had decided as her back arched slightly as a fresh wave of pain made its way through her before fading into nothingness.

Darkness, darkness, coming in at the corners and she felt it was better than all the red around her that she had no idea how to deal with and his mouth, his mouth was saying something and she tried her hardest to listen and she gave a smile as her eyes slid closed.

"Yet again I don't have an answer…I still have yet to discover your name."

"Heh.."

"It's…Reno."

"Reno…what a nice name"

Over the years Tifa had learned to identify and deal with most things red. Blood stained clothes? Cold water soak with her special formula. Short Santa outfit? Leggings-despite her pervious clothing choices she was now in a point in her life when she needed to dress respectable. An embarrassed person in front of her? Soothing phrases and touches along with a steaming mug of hot chocolate. Everything was handled with complete calm and poise.

And then a red haired man had come into her life that turned it upside down quicker than anyone or anything else had before him. They teased each other, and they smiled over the strangest of inside jokes and she never saw him outside of his daily visit to her bar. Hell, he had come to help her at exactly 7:15, his usual time of arrival.

In the end Tifa found herself surrounded with more red than she could possibly know what to do with but only one thing stood out to her and in the end that was all that mattered.

The red heads name was Reno.

She was Tifa.

And as the darkness caved in she allowed herself to go back to a place where they were back in the bar, untouched by the insanity that seemed to be running rule outside. She was handing him his favorite red drink before leaning onto the counter with a smile as he gave that laugh of his that always seemed to be hiding something and she rolled her eyes at his obscene joke.


	10. Shooting stars

Shooting Stars

Character; Tifa Lockhart

Theme; Superstitions

Standard Disclaimer Applied

Very few people could say that they knew the real Tifa. She could count them all on one hand and still have fingers to spare. She viewed the things that made her her as something people didn't need to know. They didn't need to know everything about her after all. They didn't need to know that she was afraid of spiders. They didn't need to know that she loved hot chocolate with exactly 15 mini marshmallows and one large one. They didn't need to know about the times where she woke up screaming in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and tears, trembling in sadness and wearing fear like jewels that dripped off her form like darkness. They didn't need to know that her dreams usually started in the bar downstairs and always ended in a fire bathed town and her father's body growing cold in her arms.

And they didn't need to know that every time she woke from those memories, she went out to look at the sky.

Tifa Lockhart was as superstitious at twenty-two as she was at eight. She never stepped on cracks, longed for the day where she's chance upon a four leafed clover, dropped everything to kiss her knee at 11:11 and she never, ever, said her wishes out loud. Especially if they were on shooting stars.

That leads to her now; sitting in front of the bar in the open doorway, a mug of hot chocolate warming her hands and a blanket around her shoulders to protect her from the bite of the late night air. She was looking up at the clear night sky, her eyes glazed over from the need to return to sleep yet they still searched anxiously, almost needing, for the flash of light that signaled another wish.

She didn't know how long she had been out there, but she refused to leave just yet. The marshmallows in her mug had all but dissolved into a strange grainy film over what was left of her drink and the blanket lay discarded around her for she had given up on it. The flimsy thing really had no chance at keeping the night chill at bay for very long. The sun would be rising soon, effectively cutting her window shorter and shorter with each passing minute that sky above stayed cold and unchanging. All she wanted was one, just one. The first one in so long. She would make her wish and then she could go on like everything was alright until she managed to catch another one.

Bare feet tapped the hard ground, a hand was ran through messy hair, a bottom lip was bit to quell its quivering and the tears that threatened to spill once again were blinked away with difficulty. Hope was diminishing; was tonight going to fall into the pattern of disappointment like all the days before it? It was the feeling of slightness, insignificance that had the blanket being drawn once more over slender shoulders and the black mug was once again lifted to a pair of lips that parted to take a drink. The taste was grimace worthy, but still the mug remained tipped until the chilled liquid was no more.

With dimmed eyes, she set the mug down and turned her gaze once more to the lightening sky. Sounds of movement could be heard from the upper floor, a window being opened and things being moved around and dropped. One person was up, who knew how much longer she had until she was discovered sitting out there like a frail husk of a girl. She searched the sky, almost pleading with the stars for one of them to fall just for her until she heard the sound of heavy boots against the wooden stairs behind her. That was her cue, and she honored it with a sigh. Not so gracefully she stood, collecting her things and turned to enter when she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. Not one shooting star, but two and she almost dropped the drained mug in her haste to clasp her hands together to make her wish be known to the universe.

Finally her task was done, and yet again no one would ever hear of her wish. Tifa kept them all locked up tight in a jar like kids did with butterflies and fireflies. She had a separate jar for all the shooting stars that she wished on, though it wasn't as full as she wanted it to be but she had time. She had plenty of time to collect her wishes and shooting stars, four leaf clovers and knee kisses and maybe even once upon a times.


	11. Miracle

**Miracles**

**Characters**; Tifa Lockhart, the rest of the scooby gang

**Theme**; Even those who didn't believe, had moments where miracles were the only things that had them holding on.

**Word Count**; 724

**Authors note**; I could have sworn that I uploaded this before. I suppose not.

Take the ending as you wish.

Tifa didn't believe in miracles. She believed in facts and karma and truth and while she did believe in superstitions she didn't believe in miracles. Miracles brought false hope, were useless. That's what she thought before. Before she was lying on the ground where she had fallen with the familiar faces she could have identified blindfolded swarming above her, going in and out of focus with each heartbeat in her broken chest.

Faces crying, hands shaking and grabbing at her as screams and beds for her to stay and threats about what would happen if she left assaulted her. Had life always been this loud? She felt pressure on her chest, tracing odd disorientating patterns that took her moments to realize that someone was trying to fix her. Trying to piece together her torn chest like it was a puzzle and not flesh with trembling desperate hands.

But she was not a puzzle, she couldn't be simply put back together and then she'd be perfect again. She was flesh that was torn, bones that were snapped and organs that were bleeding out and failing. She wasn't as easy as that.

A small hand touched her cheek as vows of revenge sounded like the screeches of pain that never made it out of her mind. She barely registered either of them. Her name was murmured in childish tones and then slight pressure on her numbing arm. Somehow she managed to tilt her head and decipher just who it was. The little girl who she had been given to protect. But she had failed hadn't she? She couldn't protect anyone if she was gone. She couldn't hold someone either. Hearing laughter in the bar, seeing someone coming down the stairs, the smell of fresh baked cookies on her birthday that were usually at least a little burnt but she still always looked forward to them. Her friends, no her family…All these things would be no more.

All of a sudden Tifa found herself wishing for a miracle.

She never would have thought that she would warrant such attention. People gathering around her fading body, screams and tears and anger drenched in the color of sorrow. She had always figured that she would be alone, surrounded by people running but alone. Going unnoticed until the battle was over and someone stumbled across her empty shell. She had accepted this scenario. She didn't know how to deal with this one, with people trying to fix her. She hadn't thought that people would be so upset. It puzzled her.

A hand grasped hers and her eyes moved, catching sight of her hand caught in a larger one, both soaked in blinding red but she couldn't place the face that was peering down at her now. She tried to offer a smile but all that came was a cheap imitation. Instead she to talk, to say something reassuring but more of the red bubbled up from her mouth choking her and stopping the words in her throat.

_Please Please no_

Her breath was getting shallower, her heartbeat slower, her eyes heavier. It had only been a few moments since help had arrived to find her and while it seemed like forever, forever just wasn't long enough.

_I don't want to leave_

She allowed her head to fall to the side and her bangs obscured part of her vision-had she always been a redhead? She couldn't remember anymore.

_Please…someone help me_

She was so cold, and it burned to keep her eyes open but she didn't want to close them. She wanted to continue to look at the people who made up her life, who always had her back, and who always had claim in her heart. Hands gently grasped her and pulled her into awaiting arms that held her like a precious package. Her eyes slid shut and a sound erupted from her shredded lungs, more a gurgle than a whimper. Once she felt herself being rocked and a head being buried into her shoulder she started crying. Silent fractured sobs of fear and pain and sorrow. And most of all heartbreak. This was the end and she was fading. There was nothing anyone could do about it.

_Please…_

An anguished cry, tears dotting the pavement mixing with soulless red and a hand fell limp.

"Tifa!"

"Hello!"


	12. Teenagers scare the living shit outta me

**Teenagers scare the living shit outta me**

**Characters**; Tifa Lockhart, unnamed male

**Theme**; Tifa wasn't always motherly. She was lost and broken in more ways than one as a teenager, struggling to find her grasp on the world once more.

**Word Count**; 1212

**Authors note**; I really have no idea where this came from. I just typed it up today. Minimal editing.

I've come to the conclusion that as a teenager, Tifa was just like half of the teenagers today—maybe even worse because everything she had ever known was burned in the fire.

Pay no attention to the title.

Her heart felt like a million pieces. Falling, falling. Breaking, breaking. Bringing her down with it and she clawed her way back to the surface, back to the light, back to seeing him with her and having to do it all over again.

Her blood was boiling. Her blood was boiling and her skin was bubbling but she smiled and smiled and smiled until it covered her face like a mask specially designed to show just how fucked up she was with her bloodshot eyes and make up that added ten pounds. She wasn't perfect- not by a long shot. She led people to believe in lies, led people to their demise like a twisted cab driver, never feeling remorse until long after they lay discarded once their strings had been finally cut. Here is the river. She's the ferryman and she'll lead you across the cursed waters to the devil of the day for only a few bucks. What a steal.

"_You owe me a cigarette."_

A stick for a stick but she would never catch up on her payments if she kept borrowing against herself but that was okay because the faceless male beside her was a regular customer to her tour of lies, deceit, and flames so hot they'll melt your hair before your skin even registers it, before your brain can send the signal that you're dying in the most painful way it can comprehend. But that was okay because they would take up permanent residence there together-her and this stranger who was always cloaked in darkness with a name she probably would never know- and spend their damnation laughing together at those too good for them.

And every night she snuck out as soon as the clock struck midnight like a backwards Cinderella and they'd sit on the hill, sharing alcohol and smokes and kisses with way to much teeth that would mean absolutely nothing in the morning once the sun came up and they parted ways once more.

And every day he's with a different girl than the previous and she's back to being the one with the eyes like the fucking devil.

"_Will you sell your soul to me?"_

What soul? She had lost such a thing long, long ago in the fire that had taken everything she had ever known and now all she had in its place was a cheap imitation to fool those that looked a little too closely. They were a matched pair- that much she knew. She had one and her friend had one, but she'd gladly give whatever mockery she had left to him. Just rip it straight from wherever it was buried deep within her flesh and place it in his awaiting hands because the devil had nothing on this man that could make you see stars and rainbows with a single look.

Sixteen was way too young to carry the burden she was forced to each and every day and if surrendering herself to him meant that she could fly free, than she'd do it without a second thought because until she was free, she would be stuck forever in her cage and Tifa Lockhart was no bird, no pet. Not for anyone.

She was lived in you know- not like those girls who looked as if their flesh were made of heavy duty, water proof, fire retardant, grenade resistant plastic. She was lived in with wrinkles where her heart should be, too much starch in her smile, smoke coloring the insides of her eyelids and nothing more than duct tape to hold her together. Because duct tape could hold everything together, even when they wanted to fall apart at the very seams.

And no one could get enough.

Stitching coming loose from her sides and joints, a doll of the most devious nature. She pulls her own strings instead of some shadowy figure, allowing herself to know exactly what path she takes down to self destruction rather than putting her fate in the hands of a stranger. She doesn't do trust. She's been hurt way too many times before and only an idiot would keep putting their hand out to pet someone who bites hard enough to sever nerve ending and snap spinal cords.

Rash, damned and more than a bit persuasive, an idiot she was not.

They were beautiful, they were loyal and they were well on their way to being broken.

Smiles and winks hid their pain, the walls only lowering when they were alone together where no one could judge, no one could point and no one would ever attempt to fix. They were on the fast track to being too far gone and nothing anyone did would ever change that.

Dark make up smeared around her eyes like souless pits, blush stained lips and bruises along her hips and wrists. Perverse and dark and never quite sure if it was worth it.

Scratches crossing his back, half moons and gouges, a feral look in his eyes that will always remain until clothes are picked up, a floor is closed and one or another was left alone in their flat.

It was empty. It was flat and full of nothing but adverted gazes and awkward sounds in the midst of those standard feelings that come with their actions but they had made a pact to call upon each other rather than someone who might misinterpret things.

They were teenagers. No longer the children who were never good enough at home but were golden in the eyes of their classmates. They were adults in their own right. They were fighters with war scars on their very souls like cracks on the pavement, on their very foundation. They had both given up trying so long ago and now they were fighting for their lives, their very beings from the devils of the time afraid to disappoint those around them even when a part of them knew that was exactly what was happening.

5 am phone calls, lips closing, tongues pressed to the insides of cheeks and a single motorcycle flying through the streets at night.

Leather gloves, red dresses and fingers like electricity meshing with whispers and smiles, never knowing the destination but it's the ride that counts right?

Somewhere along the line she fell in love with him. Her. The girl with the sad eyes, devils tongue and a penchant for gaudy, oversized costume jewelry. She fell in love with him. The boy with the wicked smile, granite heart and a touch that could melt butter.

She was sixteen, he was eighteen with a face that she would never be able to remember come morning. Too young to face the world, too old to want to go back.

And every night bright red lips closed around yet another borrowed smoke as moonlight illuminated her figure covered in tattered, bold hued fabric and fishnets with his swathed in contrasting scraps in all forms of the word next to her with a cigarette of his own dangling from his fingers.

And they counted the stars in the sky, years they had left before they had to finally grow up and sins they had broken as Technicolor, acrid sweet smoke drifted from their lips in lazy puffs.


End file.
